


you and i and nobody else

by budd



Series: time keeps movin' forward [5]
Category: Schitt's Creek
Genre: 5 senses, Alluded Depression, Bathrooms, Character Study, Comfort, Cuddling & Snuggling, David Rose Loves Patrick Brewer, Dialogue Light, Diary/Journal, Domestic Fluff, Episode: s01e02 The Drip, Flashbacks, M/M, Married Life, Missing Scene, POV David Rose, Patrick Brewer is a Great Husband, Post-Canon, THE BEST to Be Exact, see what i did there?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-24
Updated: 2021-01-24
Packaged: 2021-03-16 08:28:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,088
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28953468
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/budd/pseuds/budd
Summary: David Rose's relationship with silence has nevernotbeen complicated, but, until marrying Patrick, he didn't realize silence could mean serenity.
Relationships: Patrick Brewer/David Rose
Series: time keeps movin' forward [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2108112
Comments: 6
Kudos: 63





	you and i and nobody else

**Author's Note:**

> barely looked over and it's 2:36 in the morning so my apologies in advance for the inevitable mistakes
> 
> also, i have been **very** into writing character studies lately in case it isn't obvious already 😉 i'm pretty sure i've put this _exact_ P.S. in another work's notes before, but oh well!

Silence, a word associated with a positive connotation as often as its associated with a negative one; the complete absence of sound, who would enjoy that? Or, better yet, who _wouldn't_? 

David Rose has always had a complicated relationship with silence. 

Before Patrick, silence meant anxiety. It meant forceful seclusion in a dark, padded room, left with nothing, but him and his thoughts. It meant huddling alone in a corner with his legs pulled up to his chest, rocking back and forth without rhyme or reason, trying to put a pause to his brain that's racing at a million miles a minute like a goose flying across the sky hurriedly in an attempt to catch up to the rest of its flock except they don't notice one of their family members is trailing behind.

It's horrifying, being so blissfully unaware of the universe outside of himself, wanting only to be consumed with sound to _distract_ , to get his mind off his mind.

And so, he'd ground himself with the 5-4-3-2-1 technique he's had each mental health professional he's graced the presence of in his lifetime shove relentlessly in his face, a technique that got quite the myriad of usages after "moving" to Schitt's Creek, if you can call having all you've even known ripped away from the palm of your hand by a criminal _moving_. 

In retrospect, he's thankful for their law-breaking and seemingly life ruining financial manager because it led him to _Patrick_ , sweet, sweet Patrick who David wouldn't trade for all of the money in the universe, and he had a large sum of that cash for a majority of his lifetime. 

Sometimes, he and Patrick sit without intent. They simply stretch themselves out on their bed or couch (even the floor on especially difficult nights) and that's it; they're lying next to one another. 

Tonight is an especially difficult night for David.

Why? 

Beats him.

Patrick isn't aware either, but he doesn't need to pinpoint what's wrong because he's been around his husband for enough years to know what he needs in moments of darkness: _silence_. 

It's contradicting, despising something for his entire life and now needed it to placate his anxiety as if it didn't contribute to it all those years ago.

All those years ago are behind him now. 

He didn't know Patrick then.

Turns out, all David needed to be appreciative of the stillness silence has to offer is the right person by his side, wrapping their arms around his waist while whispering short affirmations into his skull and placing the occasional peck atop his perfectly coiffed hair, too.

_David stormed out of he and Alexis' room, slamming the door behind him just to sit on a broken toilet seat that could snap in half any moment with the wrong shift of his body weight._

_He doesn't know why.  
_

_He makes a lot of stupid decisions while in distress and purposely placing himself inside a white tile box was at the top of his list._

_The slight, although graceful, wisp of the shower curtain smoothing out from the unexpected gust of wind created by David's entrance; the frost collecting on the already crystallised window as a result of now evaporated the morning fog; the bar of Dollar General soap hanging ever so slightly over the edge of the too small ceramic dish it calls its home; the shit (ironic, huh?) brown discolouration of the elementary school-esque ceiling titles byway of consistent water damage for the last ten years straight; the loose screw sticking out from the top left corner of the metal towel rack its holding up, but not for much long as far as one can see._

_The crisp pre-afternoon air cooling his inner thigh after entering his black crotch-drop joggers through the cinched ankle holes; the God awfully ugly beige shag rug underneath his toes creating a surprisingly comfortable place for his Ugg clad feet to rest atop; the worn silver metal wrapping around his fingers, one below the second knuckle on his right pointer finger and another above, one at the base of the finger next door, and the final of the four adorning the same hand's pinkie; the tickle of the small hairs at the base of neck rubbing against the skin in between his shoulders as he leans his head back, letting out a guttural sigh in the process._

_The minuscule whisper of the shaded Evergreen bushes along the backside of the motel created by a fluffle of rabbits making their way by; the jarring knock of his mother's shaving cream off the still slippery bath ledge; the rustling generating underneath his legs lifting off the toilet beneath him as he readjusts his position._

_The leftover scent of Alexis' oriental floral body mist—Cairo Eau de Parfum to be exact—and the used faux leather from the journal that's been in David's acquisition for as long as he can remember._

_The aftertaste of the Sensodyne Pro-Namel Repair and Protect toothpaste he brushed with first thing this morning, aside from checking his Instagram, of course._

Now, David and his husband sit cross-legged on the title floor of their cottage's bathroom. 

"What do you need, David?" Patrick asks, threading his eyebrows together as his whiskey orbs grow larger by the second with fondness towards the man across from him. 

David tilts his head back so it's touching the pure white doorframe behind him. He likes each part of his body to be connected to something— _anything—_ else as it gives him levity. "Hold." He says simply and before he has a moment to elaborate, Patrick's bear crawling across the floor to connect knees with his husband like they're sitting next to each other on an alphabet rug in kindergarten.

Patrick intertwines their fingers, setting their connected hands atop David's thigh. He sets his head on David's shoulder, too, and he connects their skulls. Their elbows meet in the middle, just _barely_ brushing against one another. 

He scoots over to the right a bit, pressing the other side of his body on the wooden cabinet containing extra hair gel, moisturisers, toilet paper, paper towels, and a trash can as well.

It's the two of them _alone_ and David couldn't feel more at home than he does in this moment. 

To savour it, he closes his eyes as tight as humanly possible. While squeezing Patrick's hand, David inhales the deepest breath he's ever taken before letting it out, absorbing his surroundings. 

This is _peace_.

David never wants to let it go. 

**Author's Note:**

> for those of you who are unaware of the 5-4-3-2-1 grounding technique, here is the breakdown as used in the included flashback:
> 
>   * five (5) things you can see
>   * four (4) things you can feel
>   * three (3) things you can hear
>   * two (2) things you can smell
>   * one (1) thing you can taste
> 



End file.
